


Show, Not Tell

by hostilecrayon



Category: Gundam Wing/AC
Genre: Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-28
Updated: 2007-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilecrayon/pseuds/hostilecrayon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Title:  </b>Show,  Not Tell<br/><b>Author:  </b>hostilecrayon<br/><b>Pairing:  </b>3 equals 4<br/><b>Rating:  </b>G<br/><b>Warning:  </b>None<br/><b>Word  Count: </b>526<br/><b>Disclaimer:  </b>Gundam  Wing is owned by Hajime Yatate and Yoshiyuki Tomino.<br/><b>Notes:  </b>Yay!  Something new! For Corazon d fuego's prompt of Quatre/Trowa –  touchy-feely. Also for gw500's prompt of voice. I don't know how  well this fits, Corazon, but I hope you like it anyway!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Show, Not Tell

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Show, Not Tell  
>  **Author:** hostilecrayon  
>  **Pairing:** 3 equals 4  
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Warning:** None  
>  **Word Count:** 526  
>  **Disclaimer:** Gundam Wing is owned by Hajime Yatate and Yoshiyuki Tomino.  
>  **Notes:** Yay! Something new! For Corazon d fuego's prompt of Quatre/Trowa – touchy-feely. Also for gw500's prompt of voice. I don't know how well this fits, Corazon, but I hope you like it anyway!

**Title:** Show, Not Tell  
 **Author:** hostilecrayon  
 **Pairing:** 3 equals 4  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Word Count:** 526  
 **Disclaimer:** Gundam Wing is owned by Hajime Yatate and Yoshiyuki Tomino.  
 **Notes:** Yay! Something new! For Corazon d fuego's prompt of Quatre/Trowa – touchy-feely. Also for gw500's prompt of voice. I don't know how well this fits, Corazon, but I hope you like it anyway!

 **Show, Not Tell**

The airport was loud and noisy. A thousand different people speaking a hundred different languages sat, waited and boarded their respective flights, all milling along on whatever business brought them by terminal 67, gate A on the current Tuesday. Sitting in the midst of this crowd, blending in seamlessly with the hustle and bustle around me, I couldn't help but remember when this sort of environment was ideal for me. In a crowd of thousands, one could come and go as they pleased without a soul to remember their face.

It amused me, watching those around me talk, barely noticing the world around them. Most people are too caught up in talking about their own lives, their own interests – hell, just talking in general, that they never really see the bigger picture. The woman across from me thought the current legislature was poorly thought-out and was proposing her ideas to her bored husband. The man two seats down from me – he left enough space to not have to interact with me, of course – was relaying the exact way to season trout and the delicate procedure of cooking it just right so it wouldn't dry out. The girl behind me was gushing about her crush – Johnny Gibson in her fifth grade Math class – who was apparently an absolute genius and with great hair to boot.

Not one of them noticed the lost little girl quietly crying, half hidden behind an empty information desk.

It didn't surprise me. Nor did it surprise me that the one who found her was the very person I was waiting for.

Over the voices of a thousand, I could hear his floating to me, soft and gentle. "Are you lost?"

Her little eyes widened, filled to the brim with tears, and she nodded ever so slightly.

"Let's go find your parents, shall we?" He smiled warmly, holding out his hand, and after a moment's consideration, she took it.

The corner of my lip lifted slightly, and the rest of the world went on like nothing happened.

When Quatre returned, he walked over to me briskly, biting his lip. "Sorry I'm late, Trowa. I had to-"

I smiled. "I know."

His face brightened, and I unfolded from my chair, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly.

We left the airport at a leisurely pace, neither of us feeling the need to talk. I missed him and he didn't like being away so long, but the soft brush of his fingers against my palm and the brief warm kiss at the car did the telling for us.

People talk about 'show, not tell' in writing without realizing it applies to the rest of life as well. Sometimes you just don't need a voice in life. In fact, sometimes it just gets in the way.

That night, holding Quatre in the park watching the fireworks, he knew just how much it meant to me to have him there with me. And with a gentle kiss on my cheek, I knew how hard it was for him to take the time off – and that he thought it was worth every minute.

I couldn't have agreed more.


End file.
